In amongst the buses, trains, hostel finding, planning debacle of travelling it was going to be essential to schedule in an oasis where there was sameness, routine, predictability. The joy of travelling is the constant surprises and change however it requires energy and it was clear that Simon and I would burn out. The desire to throw the maps out the car window/ throttle each other was evidence enough that we needed a break from moving.
The other unforeseen result of travelling for long periods is the intense feeling, I in particular was having, of being no use to anyone. Whilst a holiday seems a just reward for efforts made, when you are in month six there is a certain element of traveller guilt.
Furthermore, my cognitive skills were in doubt and with every passing day of not using the cerebral matter I was in fear of inducing early onset dementia. How funny that us humans strive so often for freedom from constraint and yet without it completely we aren't at our best.
Tanzania was our next destination and it was in Arusha that we had found a hostel that would help us find a project where we could pretend for a little while that we back to the ol' nine to five.
Arriving in Dar es Salaam from South Africa showed us we had really been travelling Diet Africa. This was the real deal. People. Everywhere. Walking, in groups, selling, shouting, carrying children, balancing boxes on their heads. Noise. Deafening. Dust like you were inside a dyson. And more traffic on the wide, dirt roads than Dar could clearly handle. More beeping, squeaking and jostling by cars, bikes, tuk tuks, trucks, buses, than could ever be accurately described. The 30 minute journey took us over two hours. We were finally driven to a rock filled piece of wasteland and told this was the driveway to our hostel! We were not sure if it was even walkable as we stared in the dark using the headlights to squint into the rubble. Just as we were about to disembark the taxi driver accelerated! In his Nissan Primera, we thought him a crazy man to try it but, he ploughed on and after much scraping, bouncing, wheel spinning we made it to the iron gates. It was only later we would learn that this was a standard road in Tanzania and thus probably accounted for the number of people who chose to walk.

I had left South Africa not feeling my best. Long periods of time sitting down had meant long periods to be contemplative and had left me being uninspiring company. Simon was somewhat exasperated and truthfully I was fed up of myself. Something we have both learned in living within our relationship 24/7 is as individuals those moments of lull, low energy, low tolerance and when in such intense situations it is easy to lay blame with the other. The boundary with what belongs to me and what started with you is blurred and the more time you have, the fewer distractions you have, the more intense and irrational this natural ebb and flow becomes. Our thirteen hours by bus to Arusha was the gateway to getting back to the status quo of balance, distraction, separateness; long overdue and necessary in keeping us very much together. It is only at this particular point in our trip where we understood the importance of feeling competent at doing, feeling included in a group, feeling significant in something or to someone other than us. Arriving in Arusha was, we hoped, a reset button.
We had met Walter on the bus. Well, more off the bus as our tyre had exploded and so for an hour we waited for a tyre to be found and fitted. Whilst standing road side, Walter kept us entertained with his story. He was moving to Arusha for a job and would be living with his boss (his friends brother). He said he would ask if we could stay with them as I had booked us a bus one day too early and therefore we had no bed for our first night. The kindness of strangers. His boss, Aggrey, had said yes and so as we fell out of the hot bus, Aggrey piled us into a taxi and took us back to his home.
The next morning after a beautiful breakfast where I had unfortunately mistaken the coffee for tea (a little awkward), they showed us to our hostel.
Ujamaa hostel is set up for volunteers. We arrived to a home. Everyone knew everyone else and with people of all histories, ages and nationalities it made for a interesting mix. The Three Mama's cooked, tidied and tended to you, the staff and owner were always part of the daily shenanigans, the resident dog, Ziggy, made his home on your lap within minutes. It was here that we would be for 5 weeks and would be where we could start to feel a little like normal.
We were shown to the only double room in the hostel. Compact but functional except for the lack of glass in the windows and the large family of resident mosquitoes. We shared an unpredictable electric shower, a leaky toilet with a door that would not close, a TV that didn't have any TV but the DVD worked if you persevered, two sofas, a small dining area and large leafy garden where you could hand wash your smalls, sun bathe and of course join in the latest gossip. There was never a shortage of that.
Our first few days were acclimatising to Arushan living. Evansce, the brother of the owner, who everyone had to adore for his big heart, big smile and his big propensity to weed, showed us the town. We found the nearest cinema, the place for the best chip omelette, where to get shoes made, how to find a decent tea bag, how to haggle Tanzanian style and most importantly how to negotiate the dala-dala. The most common form of transport and the only affordable way to get from A to B had some fundamentals to get your head around. On the plus side they stopped wherever you needed them to stop, you only ever waited a minute or less for one to arrive, they were ridiculously cheap. On the downside the dala-dala was a rickety, beaten up mini bus. With 16 seats crammed into a teeny tiny space it was a rarity to only have 16 people in it. The record count was 24. Your average mzungu (white man) would have to fold their legs under the child sized seats and hope they were not near the window as it would mean folding your diaphragm in two to tuck yourself under the ceiling. It was not possible to have any semblance of personal space. If you were sitting you would be sat on, squished up, told to hold a baby or chicken. Bums, armpits, thighs and faces all touching skin as people were pushed and levered into the tiny carriage. If you were standing you would have no option but to place your bum/ thigh/ face into someone else. Being terribly English our first few journeys were full of 'excuse me', 'so sorry'. That was until Simon was passed a baby by a mother trying to heave her self into a small space at the back of the mini van. The little lady that Simon had dutifully taken looked in wide eyed terror at him. He looked in wide eyed horror back as she was saturated! As Simon's trousers got damper and damper it was clear Mum had no intention of retrieving her sodden child, leaving poor Simon trying to hold her aloft in the full-to-the-rafters van. It was only when mum had reached her chosen stop that the dala-dala man reunited mother and daughter. It taught us two valuable lessons that day. The law of the dala-dala is firstly, each man for his own, and secondly, don't accept babies.
Our next day was a tour of all the projects that were in need of volunteers. There was a school for children with special needs in dire need of funding, teachers and renovations. Tengeru village pre-school that was well organised, and adequately funded, but needed a chicken coop. We also saw Pippi House, a safe house for girls who were found living in the streets due to abuse, enforced labour, prostitution or destitute parents. Simon chose to build the chicken coop and I, Pippi House.
Tengeru school is a small school of 60 kiddies at pre-school age. Super cute, eager and who needed school not only for education but for vitamin pills, probably the only meal they will have that day and a bit of TLC. The school is a muddy courtyard with three small classrooms and an office, surrounded by banana trees. Headed up by a Brighton girl, Victoria, who stumbled across it years before it is now organised and financed, but relies on the kindness of strangers for improvements and repairs. Odd Job Bob (aka Simon) was there to save the day and would make his two dala-dala journey across town to weave his way through back streets and banana trees to get to the school. They had chickens but unhappy ones as they had no where to perch or sleep and, as such, no eggs. Simon measured up, flirted with the wood shop woman, found a good place for nails and went about making a chick palace! Amongst the hammering and sawing he would make sure he had time to play with the little ones, tease the teachers and generally act the fool!! Better than Mr Tumble any day! Having taught the teachers a new piece of English like "laters taters," tickled his favourite boy, Junior, helped serve lunch and chatted to 'Nice Mary' the cook over her bubbling pans he would wend his weary way home each evening. I truly had not seen Simon shine as he did in these weeks! He found a new level of confidence not only in DIY but in being able to bring a little sunshine in to peoples lives, to give them the feeling they were cared for. He spent his days smiling, chatting to friends, making new ones, getting stuck in with new ways and cultures, even being invited for dinner with the chai tea shop family! He loved Arusha and I reckon Arusha pretty much loved him back.
Life at the hostel was also just what he needed. It gave him timeout from the intenseness of 'us' and gave him space to relish in all the distractions and fun. From learning about and watching every episode of Friends with a group of American performing arts students (Juilliards no less!), to putting the world to rights, to drinking just as many rums as the twenty something's, watching the World Cup; he loved it all. It was hard not to get attached to our Arushan family. From 18 year olds who had never left America to budding opera singers and actors; from Kilimanjaro climbers to doctors on interns. Even families came and gave time and effort to some of the many projects that needed support. Inspiring of course but also made for diverse and interesting free time. We even learned how strippers pull rosary beads from their noonie! It is a strange world indeed...
Simon and I celebrated our second anniversary half way through our stay there; taking ourselves to a quiet hotel after a beautiful meal in the tranquil gardens of a coffee estate. It was perfectly timed as our life in Arusha had distanced us from each other and I had been particularly in need of reconnecting and reflecting all that we had seen and felt. Full of change both in ourselves and with each other. Despite the past seven months handing us the odd trial and a sneaky tribulation our anniversary showed us we still laughed like we always did, we still talked as much as we always had and we still loved each other like we were sure we would on that hill top in Bedfordshire only 12 months before.
When his chicken house project was finished and it was time to say goodbye to the school there was palpable sadness. Joyce, the head teacher, had called him a few times throughout the weeks when he had a day off, to say she missed him and when would he return. The saddest part was that before Simon had chance to say his final goodbyes to the school, he received a call but this time saying the chickens were dead! Less than a week after he had finished their beautiful home a dog had ripped the door away and managed to kill most of the chickens. It was decided that it was too risky to keep them and the chickens would have to go. The final goodbye was already going to be emotional but having coincided with the dog incident and the loss of their chickens the mood was particularly somber. It was clear the teachers and the children were going to miss their Simon, the funny guy from England. It was sad to see Simon at a low ebb after this and without a definitive purpose he struggled to keep the spring in his step. After nearly a week of flu he gathered himself together and came to Pippi House where we were in need of an Odd Job Bob to make the back entrance secure and make the new vegetable garden safe from hungry cows. The girls had met him before as he had popped in frequently to help with hammering and digging and so was always met with hugs and enthusiasm. One little girl, Missy, and Simon became the gate team! Even though she is only 5 she adored Simon and followed him everywhere, helping him hold the tape measure and the nails, watching him saw. Simon soon got that spring back....!
Whilst Simon was up at Tengeru, I would spend each day at Pippi House. Pippi House is the only safe house in Tanzania for girls. A social worker kept trying to place girls to keep them away from the streets, prostitution, abuse and enforced labour but there was no organisation. As such he now had 30 girls and 5 children whom he housed, fed, placed in education and taught daily living skills. The entire organisation was funded by donors and facilitated by volunteers who supported Aristides, the social worker with an enormous heart, to keep the centre going. The house was small with 2 girls to each single bed. The courtyard was mud, with a tarpaulin for shelter and was the only living space. The cooking was done over an open wood fire causing a build up of black smoke under the tarpaulin making for constant streaming eyes. Far from ideal, but of course so much better than where they had been. The girls were all clearly very happy and safe; showing interests and enthusiasm in any suggestions or activities we would do.
An Australian architect, Shari, and Lea, a student from Switzerland, had started building a vegetable garden but it was back breaking work. I offered to muck in with a few others too and soon her vision was a reality! Shovelling what must have been tons of soil meant literally blood and sweat went into the garden but the result was worth it. My role after Shari left was to work with Lea in making sure the garden was being used and tended to. I had also put in a proposal to Pippi House as to how I thought they could progress from a safe house to a rehabilitation centre. From a rather nerve wracking meeting it was decided that I would work with two glamorous and intelligent Tanzanian women who had volunteered their time to Pippi. Our aim was to get a programme together that gave the girls some of the fundamentals of self esteem, knowing their rights, confidence, boundaries; all of which had been affected by their histories. Ruth and Neema were keen to get this up and running and so over the weeks it was a good excuse to balance work with play and mix business with wine, food and gossiping about men (just like home). By the end we had a 20 week programme as well as no secrets!
My time at Pippi House was spent gardening or setting up a small workshop for those with sewing skills to make cushion covers to sell to passing volunteers to boost the Pippi food fund. Although language was a barrier at times with some of the girls, over the 5 weeks I was there I felt a strong connection with many of them. I too had a soft spot for Missy, making sure I had time each visit to give her a craved for hug. Missy's mum had abandoned her, unable to cope with herself as well as a five year old. Missy was clever, eager to learn, a little shy at first and easily overwhelmed. It wasn't hard to fall for her. Both Simon and I talked a lot about that little girl and knew we had to try to protect ourselves from what we felt for her. If Tanzanian law wasn't so ludicrously impossible with foreign adoption, three people may have arrived back in the UK, not just two...
Four girls in particular were motivated and eager to learn with sewing and we had many sunny afternoons laughing around the sewing machine. The garden took hold and a rota was working. Things were actually growing! Taylor (an incredible artist from Philadelphia), and I worked on raising funds. Our aim was to pay for essential toiletries, sanitary towels and vitamins. By the final count we'd had so many donations that along with a chunk of Lea's money we could also pay for major surgery on a very badly burned girl; a reminder of her particularly damaging past. In essence Pippi House was full of enthusiasm, positivity, change and love; a beautiful place to experience and even more so to be a small part of. It reminded me of how important connections are, how essential it is to feel useful and what an honour it is to travel and see inside so many peoples lives.
We took two days out to see the Ngorogoro crater; a magnificent basin which was filled like a fruit bowl with lakes, creatures and beasts. Having spent so much time focused on Arusha it was good to be reminded that we were in the land of lions. Simon's eagle eyes spotted us our first lion cub but the leopards and cheetahs stayed hidden. Another excuse for a safari! One word of warning though for all those thinking Africa was hot. I wore every piece of clothing I had that day in the crater and still I had a pink nose and numb fingers!! Toto mentioned "the rains down in Africa" but not the blinkin' frost
After 5 weeks Simon and I needed to go, having already stayed 1 week more than intended. Our final Saturday was for Pippi House. I, with the help of Hannah (an incredibly intelligent English girl with a hilarious sense of humour), set up a party full of the games we took for granted as children which these girls would never have even got close to. Pass the parcel was met with shrieks of enthusiasm, musical chairs got so competitive there were girls on the floor with upturned stools! One girls skirt was torn clear off! The egg and spoon race was fiercely focused but the balloon relay nearly reached a riot!!! All other team games were duly dropped and a nice, safe game of musical statues played instead. As the final winner was awarded their prize and Simon and I were about to start our goodbyes we were told by Aristides to chose a girl each. We had no idea why but we did as we were told. Simon's chosen one led me away as did mine with him. I was locked in a room for minutes until I was told to put on a dress!! They had made me a typical African dress with matching head scarf!! As I sat in my new attire I could hear shrieks and laughing and music and after another few minutes I was finally ushered back into the courtyard where Simon was in his matching African shirt, shaking some moves in the middle of a giant circle of girls!! I was dragged into the circle and every single one of us were clutching each other and jumping like lunatics!! We ended up trying to do traditional dancing whilst being hugged, and after a somewhat sweaty while, we were called once more to the front, where each and every girl gave us beads or a picture or card they had made. Aristides handed us a certificate of our contribution and in a blaze of music, dance, hugging and biting our bottom lips we made our last journey, leaving behind Pippi House.
Leaving our Arushan family was never going to be pleasant. All the characters and personalities had brought us so much laughter, so many incredible stories. They were our sounding boards for ideas and woes, our distraction, our friends. Our final few days were spent in beautiful gardens with good food, wine and friends who we really felt with whom we had shared something special. The are some beautiful souls in this world, with incredible gifts and enviable dedication. They have all left their mark and I hope our paths cross again. All these years of exploring this wide world and still human nature never ceases to amaze. That isn't to say that there weren't politics. With unrequited love, fallouts, a few fibs; it was clear that the small stuff felt like big stuff at times when living in such a close knit community.
The highs and lows of Arusha. A true roller-coaster. The projects we had been involved with and the people we had met had been truly inspiring and we both left feeling we have a special connection to them. Life in Africa came with its irritations. With power cuts and no water at times, to broken promises and out and out lies about what could be done. The ability to let things unfold as they will is the only way to not carry frustrations. Not easy when a simple task that should take 15 minutes takes a day, when people don't turn up as promised. But for all the times when Africa time made you want to tear your hair out, it would work in your favour with other things like a new floor or tiled toilets happening within hours! To really live and love Africa you have to first learn to let go, to go without expectation and to accept what is. Once you have mastered that, you can't help but bask in the cheery, casual dance that seems to underpin African culture.